She wants

to be diaphanous as her dress,

an insubstantial spirit free

from all the disagreeable stress

of functioning biology,

to banish farts and faeces, sweat

and menstrual liquidity

but what I want is warmth in bed,

her smoothness and solidity.

She hopes her pungent perfumes quell

all hint of animality

but I prefer the ranker smell

of female sexuality.

Despite our differences I learn

to treat her dreams with gravity

and she endeavours in her turn

to live with my depravity.

Dating ?

Regular visitors to my garden

when the sun shines between the showers,

a pair of wood pigeons forage together

searching for food among the flowers.

It makes me wonder what's their connection.

Just the two of them, never with others.

Possibly an old married couple?

Or family bonded, sisters, brothers?

Or perhaps the start of a new relation?

As so often seen together lends

credence to speculation whether

it's a new romance or just good friends.

Though sexes attract

the contact is fraught;

the act is the fact

but the thrill is the thought,